Moments
by ravenhaired
Summary: Colette had a talent for making moments, for making people feel special, needed, wanted. Kate/Colette.


**Moments**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pan Am**

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><p>Kate was a black sheep. She rarely fulfilled the expected criteria, and she had it been told it so many times by disapproving authority figures she had eventually subsumed it into her personality, made it part of the armour she displayed to the outward world.<p>

Subsequently, she and Laura had never been close. Whereas Kate prided herself on being different, on pushing boundaries, on making their mother's forehead crease with worry and dissatisfaction, Laura was content to operate within their mother's narrow world view. They had never disliked each other, never had a tempestuous relationship, but they had never been the sort of sisters who would gossip about boyfriends and do make-overs with each other. Though, Kate reflected, those sisters only really seemed to exist in fiction.

So when Laura had decided not to marry her fiancé and disappear off to New York with her elder sister, Kate had to admit she was surprised. Not only surprised, but a bit put out. Though on an objective level she was pleased her sister had not married a man she wasn't in love with simply to fulfil their mother's expectations, she was disappointed that Laura – Laura who had always had everything, right down to the shiny golden locks straight out of a Disney movie – now was different in exactly the same way Kate was, thus rendering them both the same.

That was difficult to stomach. When Laura's face had appeared – so jubilantly, Kate thought dismally – on the cover of Life, Kate's stomach had knotted in anger. It wasn't fair that Laura could fit so easily into so many walks of life, wasn't fair that Laura could effortlessly turn her hand to everything. It just…wasn't fair. Kate hated being thrust into the background by Laura – God, even Ted had made a pass at her! Granted, Kate didn't want Ted's hands anywhere near her, but how many pilots had made a pass at Kate in the five years she had been working for Pan Am? None. Kate found this galling – and now Laura, on their third flight out of New York, had pilots jumping over each other for her.

It wasn't that Kate was unattractive, Colette had murmured to her over a drink somewhere in the Netherlands, quite the opposite in fact. She just had this air – Colette waved her hand expressively, she had drunk quite a few glasses of wine – about her that put people off.

Kate was at a loss. She couldn't help any 'airs' she may put on, it was ingrained, it was so a part of her she couldn't help it.

Laura had tried to get to know her sister over the weeks they had been cooped up together in Kate's tiny apartment. Silences were rife, and Kate was prone to brooding.

When Laura had queried Kate's seeming lack of a romantic life, or interest in one, there had been a terrific row. Kate had left Laura sobbing, when she stalked out of the apartment, wanting to stomp out her frustration on the pavement.

She had wandered around in the crisp New York evening, contemplating calling Colette and asking if she wanted to get a drink, a coffee – or, to hell with it, if Kate was honest with herself, if Colette wanted to go to bed with her.

Sometimes Colette did. Never in New York, never where someone might know who they were, might know their professions, never where it might get back to someone they didn't want it to get back to. Kate let out an explosive break, clutching the railing, staring out at the pond in Central Park. Pity they weren't in Mexico, or Japan, or Timbuktu.

Kate had scuttled back to the apartment later that evening, apologised to a red-eyed and mute Laura and went to bed, exhausted. There was only one bed in Kate's one-roomed apartment, so Laura had a sleeping bag on the sofa.

Kate lay in bed, twisting her hands and staring at the ceiling. She was thinking of Colette's soft hands parting her thighs, of lips on her neck.

"Kate," Laura whispered suddenly. "Are you asleep?"

Kate didn't answer.

"I just…wanted to say…that if you're…you know, not interested in men." Laura said the last bit in a rush.

Oh Christ. Clearly she'd been talking to Maggie about counter-culturism . Kate scowled in the darkness. Maggie had tentatively said to Kate before that perhaps Kate would like to come to some silly meeting about feminism, about what women could do for…other women. Maggie had raised her eyebrows in what she hoped was a gesture of understanding, but Kate had feigned ignorance. She didn't need Maggie championing her.

"Then, you know, that's ok. Well, obviously I wish you were but you can't help it if you're not…"

Kate squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep. She supposed she should be thankful to have such a sweet and understanding sister, a sister who wanted to be worldly so she was willing to accept and understand things that, deep down, she didn't understand and didn't accept. She was lucky, she supposed; but it also made her hate Laura more.

They didn't talk about it in the morning, as they rushed around trying to find hats and shoes and badges for their flight to San Francisco.

Laura seemed to gravitate towards Maggie, be attracted to her free-natured and liberal ways. Kate guessed she herself seemed free-natured and liberal to Laura when she was in small-town mid-America but now, in New York, Laura realised that Kate was a small-time liberal, willing enough to break traditional gender roles but not liberal enough to live in the village and fuck beatniks.

Colette had queried why she and Laura were so stand-offish on the flight to San Francisco. She had place a cool, gloved hand on her knee and squeezed during take-off, as Kate's breath hitched.

Just an argument, Kate had replied weakly. Sisterly nonsense – living and working together, it was taking its toll.

When Maggie had suggested they go out that night, eyes shining, saying her boyfriend or the boyfriend before her current boyfriend or something like that had recommended 'an avant-garde little club – jazz, Colette, you love jazz!', Kate had refused. She could see Laura's disappointed eyes on her – her sister was not as inspirational as she had once been.

Two hours later, she was surprised to find Colette at the door of the twin room she and Laura were sharing, a sly smile on her face.

"I thought you'd gone with the others?" Kate asked, as Colette slid the door shut. She locked it, Kate noted, with anticipation.

"_Non_," Colette proffered a bottle of champagne – where the hell had she got that? "Stole it from first class,"

"_Stole_?" Kate was going to protest, when Colette pressed her mouth lightly against hers. Kate licked her lips, as Colette, grinned and uncorked the champagne.

"Why didn't you go…?"

"Oh, that Maggie can be so tiresome sometimes. _Maggie __peut être__si ennuyeux _as they say in Paris," She handed Kate a champagne flute. "I can dance in New York,"

Kate took a long drink to hide her pleasure.

"So, _ma cherie_," She's overdoing the French, Kate thought, because she knows I love it. "What's been troubling you?"

"Laura," Another sip of champagne loosened her tongue. They sat together on the bed, legs swinging, like school-girls.

"What about her?"

"I guess it's just living in such close quarters, and working together too…" Kate trailed off.

"_Je pense_…you are a saint," Colette said quietly, with a soft smile.

Kate chuckled. "Yes, well, that's debatable,"

"Non. Non. Non…" Colette brushed Kate's neck with her lips. Kate shivered. "Non,"

"She also said…" Kate paused. "That if I…didn't want to be with a man…" Colette stopped abruptly. "That…would be ok,"

Colette trailed her fingers up Kate's thigh. "I am glad for you," She said and Kate knew not to ask any more than what Colette was already giving her. Colette may not have the mother, father and siblings she craved now, but she was determined to have them someday.

Kate had known, of course, that this would be the response.

"Let it be," Colette murmured into her ear. "What it is."

Kate turned her head, and smiled a smile she didn't feel. "You're right, of course,"

"I always am,"

Colette smiled and slid forward, kissing her softly. Kate hummed quietly into the kiss, as it deepened, as they melded together and Colette found purchase, throwing one leg over Kate to straddle her.

"_Tu es belle_," Colette said, a deep rumble in her chest.

It was this, Kate thought helplessly, as she was pressed back against the mattress, it was when Colette said things like that that Kate fell powerlessly and repeatedly in love with her. Colette had a talent for making moments, for making people feel special, needed, wanted.

Feather-light kisses dotted her neck and Colette began to unbutton Kate's nightdress, off came her chemise and Colette ran her hands down her sides, up her stomach and took one of Kate's nipples in her mouth.

Kate gripped the bedclothes, unable to contain the soft moan.

Colette slipped one finger inside Kate's underwear, watching with satisfaction as Kate stiffened and moaned. She grinned, pulling them off, and lowering her head, to lick Kate's puckered clit.

Kate arched into orgasm, as Colette's tongue curled. Panting, she felt Colette kiss the inside of her thigh, then crawl up her to kiss Kate's lips. Kate could taste herself on Colette, as she reached out, shucking up Colette's skirt, reaching for her.

Later, Colette was humming against Kate's throat. "Better?" She purred.

Kate nodded, and Colette pushed back her hair, allowing a final kiss. "I must be getting back to my room," She said, and, Kate thought, regretfully. "Maggie and Laura will be back soon – they'll wonder… if they come back…"

"And we're in a state of undress?" Kate's lips quirked.

Colette smiled, relieved that Kate was not going to be difficult. "_Oui_,"

Kate watched her dress. Colette was blessedly brazen, and didn't mind the eyes on her. "Good night,"

"_Bonne nuit_," Kate returned, eliciting a small smile from Colette.

Laura returned not long after. Her nose wrinkled, and she glanced around. Whilst Kate had put back on her nightdress, there was no disguising the smell of sex in the room.

She sat her purse on the bed and limped out of her shoes. Her eyes lingered on the two champagne flutes that Kate had not thought to disguise.

"Did you have a good evening?" Laura asked, her voice slurring slightly with alcohol.

"Moderately, yes," Kate replied, turning a page in her paperback.

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><p><strong>The End<strong>


End file.
